


Dishes

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Vince's Princess ♥ [25]
Category: Pulp Fiction (1994)
Genre: Bickering, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Vacation, offensive language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: just a little something. i wanted to write smth that wasn't a request for once so here you go hahaha i know it's short! prompt taken from a domestic list i reblogged on tumblr :>





	Dishes

**Author's Note:**

> tw: offensive language (contains an offensive slur) but of course i don't condone this type of behaviour! just added for realistic dialogue purposes <3

******“Dishes… right, the dishes. In the next few minutes, I swear,”** Vincent mumbles, half-awake eyes glazed over from watching too much television. He watches it enough as it is, never mind when you’re on vacation. “Doin’ ‘em right now.”

You shake your head at your lazy ass of a boyfriend and turn your gaze to out of the window. The trailer Vincent had bought you last year was a used one, true, but it’s sure as hell cosy. After months of begging him, he had finally broke down and agreed to get you one. _“Christ, baby, fine, if it’ll shut you up,”_ he had whined. You let out an accidental chuckle at the memory, mind completely elsewhere, and Vincent glances at you. “What you laughin’ at, hot stuff?”

“You,” you smile, slipping your hand in his. “Are you gonna do the dishes or what?”

“Yeah, just gimme five minutes, baby.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past twenty minutes,” you giggle, getting up and straddling him. He smiles, embarrassed, his lazy sky-blue eyes gazing into your own. “C’mon, I did ‘em last night.”

“I’ll do ‘em if you suck me off later,” he teases, half-joking. But you both know that.

Rolling your eyes, you roll your hips against him gently, amused by his comments. “Shut up, Vince, you should do ‘em ‘cause you love me. Besides, you know I’d suck you off anyways. I _love_ you and your cock.”

“Fuckin’ hope so,” he says. “A’ight, get off me, let me get this shit over with.” You oblige and, with a whiny expression on his face, he pushes himself off of the couch and saunters not even five feet over to the kitchen-area.

“Honest to God, if nobody knew you they’d think you’ve been on your feet all day. You’re so fucking lazy.”

“Y’know, baby,” he grins, pulling on the rubber gloves, "that attitude’a yours makes you sound like a real bitch, you know that? Good job you got a good rack or I’d boot you out right now.” He’s joking, of course, and you appreciate it. With a giggle, you put your feet up on the opposite end of the couch and prop your head up on a cushion, watching him. It’s actually quite hard to watch; Vincent is washing the dishes so sloppily it’s unbelievable.

You scoff at him. “Are you doing that on purpose?” 

Vince turns to look at you, his almost-black hair practically swinging around with his head. “Doin’ what on purpose?”

“Washing the dishes like a retard.”

“Hey now,” he huffs. “I’m not a retard.”

Smiling at your man-child of a boyfriend, you giggle and sigh. What a dickhead you love.


End file.
